Rebel Fight
by Resh
Summary: *Post Rebel Stand*: As the defenders of Borleias recover, Jag and Jaina spend what time they can together while Wedge and his insiders make plans to move the Rebellion forward. **UPDATED 11/2**
1. Chapter one

Star Wars

RI 2000-2002

Disclaimer: I own only this fic

Notes: I slapped this together because I wasn't happy with the place _Rebel Stand_ left off. I won't be happy until _Traitor_ comes out. And then only for the two hours it takes to read it. 

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Poluga II was a small stormy world, largely uninhabited except for the half meter, barely sentient bird-like creatures that preyed on non-sentient crawlbugs. From the view port of the Star Destroyer _Mon Mothma_, it was a swirling sphere of bruised blue-grey. 

Wedge Antilles sat in the center of a semi circle of chairs occupied by members of his Inner Circle. "The plan," he said, "is to make repairs here using what we can, then rendezvous with Admiral Kre'fey's fleet."

Gavin Darklighter of the Rogues raised his hand. "Rendezvous temporarily or for a long stretch?"

"Undecided. We're going to see where the rest of military stands and get updates on Vong activities since we took Borleias."

Wedge's second-in-command, Tycho Celchu, posed a second question. "Do you intend to recruit Kre'fey for the Inner Circle?"

Wedge hesitated. It would be advantageous to have Ke'frey on board, but did he trust the admiral enough? The thought of his daughters in the admiral's hands, or any of his friends' children, confirmed it. "Not at this time. Perhaps later, when I'm more certain of him."

Nods of agreement around the crescent reassured him, especially Luke's. Wedge trusted his old friend implicitly, and though blind to the Force himself, he trusted the aging Jedi's intuitions. " So, no arguments? Good. Now, since Tycho brought this matter up, we'll continue it. I'll have a larger Insider meeting later, but I'll tell you this now: start thinking about anyone you know in Admiral Kre'fey's fleet that can be trusted and might be in a position to help us set up Rebel cells. Commandos, ground crew, techs, search and rescue teams, ground-based pilots or officers--anyone that can mingle with a wide assortment of people in a variety of places without seeming out of the ordinary. The sneakier the better. Also, be thinking about the next planets to be infiltrating. " Wedge looked to the large Gammorean to his left. Piggy was not so much sitting in his chair as slouching in it, appropriately nonchalant. The Wraith pilot caught his gaze. "Yes, General?"

"How are your goddess sessions with Jaina coming along?"

Piggy sat up straight, also appropriately professional. "Very well. She learns quickly and contributes quite a bit. Her ideas aren't always viable, but they are interesting. Sharr and I have hammered out a number of ingenious conceptions based on her ideas."

Wedge sensed that the Gammorean had more to say. He would speak to him privately. "All right, anything else? No? Military, get back to your posts. Start inventory. Gavin, Piggy; you stay." 

When everyone else had left and Tycho had shut the door to the small conference room, Wedge turned first to Gavin. "I've got a few candidates for you. Some want out of the units they're in now, and some _are_ the units. Tycho has all the files."

Gavin nodded, sobered at the reminder of how many Rogue Squadron had lost. "Thank you sir. If that's all?"

"That's all, *_sir_.*"

Faint color suffused Gavin's cheeks. He had been completely mortified to realize after the battle that 'Blackmoon Eleven' was Wedge and Wedge was having a marvelous time of using it at any opportunity. He waved the fidgeting Colonel off and turned to Piggy. "There was something you weren't saying at the meeting."

Piggy blinked his large eyes as if considering his words carefully. "I do not like to intrude upon personal business, but I feel it necessary in this case. You are aware of the Goddess's relationship to your nephew?"

Wedge nodded. Piggy continued, "I fear that it may endanger our efforts at psychological warfare. They are very discreet, but others will notice soon."

"Soon." Wedge frowned. "How many know now?"

"Very few. You and I, Kyp Durron, of course, and Colonel Celchu. Her parents, maybe. Possibly Mara Jade Skywalker."

That makes sense, she was Jaina's mentor," Wedge said. "But that's it? They're a lot better at this than I ever was."

"Most have come to think of Kyp Durron and Jag Fel as Jaina's own private inner court. They do not think it unusual that she would have her manservant and her wingman with her. Or just her wingman. But Kyp Durron attracts less attention than Jag."

Wedge's forehead creased. "I can see that having a relationship to an unknown pilot might hurt this, but royalty often take commoner consorts."

'True enough, but when those commoner consorts are kidnapped or killed as a way to get to the Royalty, their death is meaningless to the royal they pleasured. If a Yuuzhan Vong or an agent decide to use such method to get to the Goddess, they will instantly know he is not a simple diversion to her." Piggy remained still as Wedge started to pace. "Our goddess cannot have weaknesses." 

"She's human piggy. Flesh and blood and a Jedi. She's going to have weaknesses."

"They must think otherwise."

"What do you propose?" Wedge made an effort to banish the rising frustration in him. "Forbid their relationship? Isolate her further? Take away everything she cares about and order her to feel nothing?"

"That would be the most effective solution, but not the wisest. I have not found a viable solution yet. I merely wanted to make you aware of this problem."

"Thank you. Piggy? Don't say anything to her about this just yet. Advise her to exercise _extreme_ discretion, but don't voice any concerns to her yet. Someone may accuse me of sentimentality, but she is my hold daughter and her mental and emotional welfare is as important to me as her physical care. The same for my nephew. They make each other happy; I'm not going to vape that just yet."

"Yes sir."

Wedge sat back down once Piggy was gone, bone weary and wishing for an interruption so he wouldn't have to face his desk just yet. A moment later the conference room door opened and he got his wish. And it was better than he wished for. 

Iella strode up with a secretive half smile on her face and leaned down to kiss him soundly. Wedge wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down into his lap. "You're looking especially beautiful."

"Wedge." Iella blushed prettily and pushed at him until he loosened his hold enough for her to find a more comfortable position. She gave him another gentle kiss. "How are you doing?"

Wedge sighed. "Ask me later. What are you doing here?"

"Spending some quality seconds with my husband. I waited outside the conference room until you were done with Piggy." 

"Mm. Not stealthy, but it worked."

"Apparently." 

Wedge stroked his wife's back beneath her short jacket and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He felt her hands working the front of his uniform. "Iella…"

"Shhhh." She silenced him with another kiss and slid her fingers inside his tunic. More clasps came undone. Wedge's breath and heart changed pace. He shivered slightly as her exploring touch easily found many sensitive spots. He pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw, tracing a sensuous path to her neck with many small kisses and licks. 

Iella tugged his over tunic off, leaving him in the bland grey shirt that he wore beneath. She saw the conflict on Wedge's face and smirked slyly. "Don't worry about the door. Whistler scrambled the lock. It can't be opened until I give him the signal to shut the program down." Iella took out her comlink and placed it in the pocket of Wedge's discarded tunic. Then she took Wedge's comlink and shut it off. "Tycho has also been made aware that you'll be unreachable for an hour or so."

"I love having a wife who can plan ahead."

"There are many more reasons you love me." 

Wedge's breath hitched. "Yes, I remember now," he rasped. "Are you sure about the door?"

"Positive. The only droid on this ship capable of opening that door besides Whistler is Artoo. And he's not going to."

"Why do you say that?"

Iella brushed her hair from her face and grinned wickedly. "Where do you think Luke and Mara found the time to have Ben?"

Wedge blinked. "A side room with a droid-scrambled lock?"

Iella made a noise like a correct answer chime.

No more intelligent words passed between them.

***

Corran Horn was walking with Luke, with Artoo trailing behind, when they passed the conference room the Insiders had occupied earlier. Whistler was stationed beside the door, interfaced with the controls. The droid whistled happily at Corran. 

The Corellian Jedi frowned at his astromech. "What are doing?"

Whistler *_ooohed*._ Artoo rolled up and the two droids exchanged chirps and hoots. Artoo made a sound that mimicked human laughter in electronic tweets. 

Luke looked around as if appraising the doorframe, then raised his eyebrows. "Is that the gamma twenty-one program, Whistler?"

The green astromech hooted an affirmative. 

Mystified, Corran looked at both his droid and his master, who was struggling mightily to keep a straight face. He failed and grinned uncontrollably. "What?" Corran demanded.

Luke shook his head. "I'll explain later. Let's go now."

"But…nevermind. I don't want to know." Corran allowed Luke to lead him away, casting one dark glare back at his droid. Whistler twittered cheerfully. 

Around the corner, Face was also struggling not to laugh, but for different reasons entirely. "Do it," he whispered to his astromech. Vape extended his computer interface and plugged in. 

"What do you think? Open the door?"

"No," Kell Tainer said. He saw crouched in the shadows, perfectly motionless. His handsome face was still but his eyes glittered.

"Come on. Think about it. We could get holocams, broadcast a good picture of the commander's bare--"

"No," Kell repeated. 

"Up to something shady?"

Both men spun to see Wes Janson in the hallway behind them. The merry pilot was grinning. 

"We're just uh… checking out the thing…"

"Yes, always good to check out the thing," Wes said. He crouched close to Vape and peered at the mini monitor next to the outlet. "Does Wedge know that Vape has this program?"

Face snorted. "Do you think I would still be in custody of my droid if he did?"

Janson's grin grew. "What are you planning on doing with it?"

"Well, I wanted to open the door--"

"Iella will kill you," Wes said.   


"That's what I said."

"Did not," Face retorted. "You said 'no.' "

"You were supposed to understand that meant, ' Iella will kill you.'

"I'm not that smart."

Wes interjected, "I've been telling you that for years…"

"Besides, Iella already hates me. I'm not going to make her any madder."

"True enough, and she *is* our superior officer."

Both Wraiths looked to Wes. The youthful pilot looked thoughtful for a moment before the wicked glee returned. "Lock them in."

---------------------------------

Coming soon: the next installment of this story. Jaina scrounges up some time to spend with Jag. 


	2. Chapter two

Star Wars

RI 2000-2002

Disclaimer: I own only this fic

Notes: general craziness.

------------------------------

It was the early in the sleep cycle.

Jag Fel was stretched out on the narrow bed in his quarters when his door sighed open. There was a blur between his door and his bed and then a weight crashed down on top of him.

Gently, of course. 

Jaina's dark shiny hair formed a curtain around their heads as she smiled at him from atop his chest. "I found some time." She crossed her arms over his collarbone and brushed her hair back. 

Jag slid one hand beneath his head. The other trailed to Jaina's waist. He searched her face carefully, seeing the weariness beneath the cheerful smile. He scooped her bangs aside and tucked them behind her ear. Softly he said, "You look tired."

The humorous glow faded from her face. She suddenly became a very wrung out young woman. "I haven't been able to get much sleep. Aside from the sessions with Sharr and Piggy and the regular paperwork that comes with a squadron, Wedge wants status on pilots, ships and parts for each squadron. It's just not leaving me enough time for trivial things like sleep."

Jag kissed her chin. "Anything I can do?"

"Yeah. Hide me."

Jag made a small show of looking around his small, sparse quarters. "Where precisely?" His moment of silliness had the desired effect to make Jaina smile again. She frowned again just as quickly. "I think they're getting ready to says something about our relationship," she told him.

"They who?"

Jaina rolled her eyes. "Who else? Piggy and Sharr. They-"

Jag stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips. Jaina watched him with large dark eyes. Jag could feel her lips tremble beneath his fingertip. He let his hand drop from her mouth and she remained silent. "Don't waste time and energy worrying about them right now." he lifted his head to kiss her, then slid her, settling her against his right side in the crook of his shoulder. Jaina pushed her left hand beneath his shoulder blade and rested the fingers of her right hand on the hollow of his collarbone. His skin was warm through his shirt and she felt the occasional tremor race over his skin. 

Jag waited until she stopped moving and gently rubbed her back through her soft shirt, trailing his knuckles up and down her spine in a slow soothing rhythm. She reacted to his touch, her skin shivering and flinching as his fingers brushed down her back. He would stop as he found little knots of tense muscle and work them firmly until they loosened. She sounded drowsy when she spoke again. 

"I miss my family. I miss Chewbacca and Anakin and Jasa, and the way we used to be as children." It was not a subject she had ever brought up before. 

"How young as children?" Jag's voice was low and soft. 

"No older than twelve, Jasa and I. That would make Anakin ten or so." Jaina shifted against him. "Sometimes very early in the mornings, we'd go out exploring. Jacen always found these fascinating things, like spiderwebs with dew on them, and Anakin was good at finding new spots. We explored the jungle all around the Temple.

"We'd do things at night, too. Sometimes all three of us would climb up to the Great Temple's roof and lay down. We'd spend hours up there looking at the stars." Jag felt her smile against his shoulder. "After we found all the known constellations, we made up our own. Jacen made animals. Anakin and I made up ships."

She was quiet for so long Jag thought she had fallen asleep. "We didn't do everything together. Anakin spent a lot of his time by himself. I didn't like animals the way Jacen did and he couldn't figure out why Anakin and I loved to tinker with the _Falcon._ Sometimes we'd go up there in pairs, or alone.

"I've been on hundreds of worlds and seen billions and billions of stars, but it was never like Yavin. Never exactly the same stars, never exactly in the same place. I still look at the stars, but it isn't the same. I'm alone because there isn't another choice. It's been so long since I've seen Yavin that I can't quite remember all the stars… I'm even having trouble remembering Jacen's and Anakin's constellations now."

Hot tears threatened to spill. She held them back, inviting the painful stinging as something to concentrate on, something else to think of rather than the deep-seated ache in her soul that wanted to push her to the brink of her sanity. She had been there once, and had almost lost Jag because of it. She would not go there again. 

Jag held her silently in the midst of her struggle. He brought his hand from behind his head to rest on her elbow. Jaina turned her head, rubbing her stinging cheeks on the curve of his strong shoulder. He didn't seem to mind. She shifted, pressing herself more fully into his side. The scents of filter-scrubbed air and crisp-smelling soap were comforting. 

"I'm sorry. I know how much you miss your brothers. I miss my brother and sister as well." 

Jaina sniffed. Jag didn't offer any further information and she didn't push. They lay silently. The tension in her body slowly slipped away. She was inclined to lie there for the rest of the night. 

Jag's comlink chirped. 

Jaina groaned. "I'm not hearing that." His shoulder muffled her voice. Jag gave her an apologetic kiss on forehead, then reached for the small device. He thumbed it on. "Colonel Fel here."

"Colonel." It was his uncle's voice. "I've been made aware that Jaina is not with Kyp Durron. Is she with you?"

Jag glanced down at Jaina; she had tilted her head up and was staring back. Her liquid brown eyes gleamed in the minimal light . Jag sighed inaudibly. "Yes, the Goddess is here." He solemnly winked at Jaina. 

"Very well Colonel. Goodnight."

Jaina grabbed the comlink from Jag's hand and forcefully switched it off. She threw it in the near-pitch blackness of his room and Jag heard it bounce on a pile of dirty clothing. "I don't know what that was about," she said. 

"Neither do I," Jag said thoughtfully. He glanced down as Jaina sighed and reluctantly sat up. "I need to go. Dad wants some quality time and I don't have the reports from the squadron techs yet."

Jaina nimbly climbed over him. Jag wondered if she was aware of what she was doing when her legs and fingers slid over his chest. He was certainly aware of it. Jaina stepped off the bed and leaned back over to give him a soft, lingering kiss. "Goodnight Jag. Get some sleep."

"You too." Jag winced when light from the hallway hit his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as the door shut behind Jaina. 

Jag stared up at his ceiling for a long time though he could not see it in the darkness. A shadow of a speculative frown crossed his face, replaced by a small grin. 

***

Han Solo was upside down and feet over head in a compartment when Jaina found him. Still unaware of her presence he continued to work, occasionally grunting. Only if a listener was a Wookie or understood the language would they know than Han was muttering the most vile curses he could think of. There was a sharp clank of metal and another blistering curse--this time in Basic. Han's hand appeared at the edge of the opening, searching for a hydrospanner just out of his reach. Jaina picked it up and pressed it into his hand. Han was still for a moment, then closed his fingers around the tool and resumed his work.

As easily as that, they had slipped back into their old routine. 

For nearly an hour Jaina sat cross-legged beside the hole that had half-swallowed her father, using the Force and basic mechanical knowledge to anticipate what tool he needed. They said nothing to one another; the only words uttered by Han were dire threats to cantankerous objects. 

Jaina was aware that Leia had arrived and was watching them from the galley. The smell of brewing caf was what finally brought Han out of the dirty access shaft. He wiped his hands on a rag and kissed Jaina to share the wealth of grease on his face. She frowned and scrubbed her face. Together they got up and joined Leia in the galley, each with the own fresh cup of caf. 

They talked of nothing important for twenty minutes, until the datapad in Jaina's outer cargo pocket began to beep. She sighed and pulled it out. The reports from the techs were in. Jaina drained the last of her caf. "I have to go. Goddess stuff and commander stuff to do."

"Bye honey." Han watched his daughter wearily leave the _Falcon_, then turned to his wife. "She's not sleeping."

Leia looked as concerned as he did but she made no move. "She has important duties, Han. There isn't always time for sleep." 

"She's a goddess, right? She could demand the time to sleep." He argued. 

"She could also insist that Kyp or Jag do her dirty work. She won't because we raised her to be responsible."

"Well, that was stupid," Han drawled. He leaned back and slung his arm over the seatback. "Now, about the Fel kid."

Leia hid a smile. "What about him?"

"Is there something going on between him and Jaina?"

"You'll have to ask them-"

"Cut it out, Leia. I'm not an idiot--I see the way he looks at my little girl."

"…Yes, there is."

Han scowled at the wall behind Leia. "I don't like this."

Leia laid her hand over his. "I don't think it's his intention to hurt her, Han. He doesn't seem to be the type who makes attachments or abandons them easily."

"Not what I'm worried about." Han said. "He's a good-looking, twenty-year-old hotshot _and_ he's a full blooded Corellian. And my daughter is smart and beautiful and capable. And _that's_ why I'm worried," he finished emphatically. 

--------------------------------

Coming soon: part three of this nutball saga….


	3. Chapter three

Star Wars

RI 2000-2002

Disclaimer: I own only this fic

Notes: I slapped this together because I wasn't happy with the place _Rebel Stand_ left off. I won't be happy until _Traitor_ comes out. And then only for the two hours it takes to read it. 

-----------------------------

Late in the night Mara lay awake, listening to and feeling the ship around her. It was unnaturally quiet, Mara decided, without the familiar vibrations of the engines humming along the ship. She had always disliked remaining in one place for too long, and their inactivity was making her tense. She was sorely tempted to head out for the maw, as much to be doing something as to see her tiny son again, but knew Luke felt it important to stay here. 

She lifted her head to gaze up at her sleeping husband's face, resting her chin on his ribs. Luke's breathing was gentle and his face relaxed. His much-scared face seemed younger in sleep, the stress lines and frowns of worry temporarily erased. He even smiled occasionally, dreaming of things pleasant to him. Mara had once probed his mind while he dreamed. She had learned that he liked grass. Three years of marriage and she learned at the moment that he liked an abundance of green grass and a little stream. A simple man, her husband. Since then they always had some little plant in the quarters. She also sensed that he sometimes dreamed of his childhood on Tatooine. Burning curiosity and impatience had colored his views of it at the time, but his aunt and uncle had loved him. For all intents and purposes, it had been nearly perfect. 

"You're broadcasting." Luke's voice was pitched very low to suit the quiet of the room. He projected the same serenity he had in sleep. 

"Excuse me."

Luke half-opened his eyes and grinned. "You're excused." He shifted slightly and tugged the top cover higher over them. The room was overly cool. He gave the environment controls a little tap with the Force, jumping the temperature up a few degrees. 

"Thank you."

Luke looked at her. "You could have done that yourself."

"True, but it's much more fun to have your husband do your menial work."

A tremor of laughter ran down Luke's ribcage. She felt his hand in her hair--his real hand--stroking the long red strands in time with her breathing. It was relaxing, and while not as good as true sleep, she would take it. 

"You want to leave." Luke said.

Mara shifted to alleviate the strain on her neck and pulled herself up to lay partially on his chest. She carefully sifted through her thoughts, panning out the truth. "I want to be doing something."

Luke nodded, his hand still working its slow rhythm. He knew how she felt about inactivity. His wife was never tense or uncomfortable until she had to wait. "You also want to see Ben."

Mara narrowed jade-green eyes at him. "If you had to read me through the Force to get that, you've got a real problem."

Luke lifted his head from the pillow and smiled at her, his deep grin that he had misplaced during the years he had become caught up in the pressure of being a Jedi. The years he had given serious thought to isolating himself, as Yoda and Obi-wan had. "No I didn't need the Force."

"Good. Hate to think I'm in this thing alone."

"You're not," Luke assured her. "I love my son more than anything."

Mara blinked passively at him. She was perfectly content with the knowledge that if Luke had to choose between her and their son, he would choose Ben. It would kill him, but he wouldn't sacrifice his son, even for her. Nor would he die with her, should those circumstances arise. He would save her or let her go. She wanted it that way. She _needed_ it that way. 

Luke disentangled his hand from her riotous red mane and dropped it to her shoulder. Mara made a noise of discontent, and his hand came back up with a soft snicker. As they lay there Mara stretched out into the Force, settling into the myriad of sensations coming to her from all over the ship. Something brushed past her, something familiar and bitter tasting at the same time. Mara frowned and reached for it. She was only able to catch traces of it, like a faint whiff of something unique-smelling. She tightened the focus of her considerable Force-sensitivity and ruthlessly sought the emotion. She found it, and found it was coming from Jaina. It was pain. Her niece was doing a decent job of masking, no doubt to avoid worrying her mother. She also knew Jaina's full focus wasn't on the task. Jaina could shut down tightly and completely when she chose. 

Mara stretched a little further and realized Jaina distraction. Mara could not sense Jag Fel through the force--she didn't think it was possible-- but she did know the how her niece felt about the Chiss commander. She was willing to guess they were together now. 

Luke was watching his wife and saw the conspirator smile on her face. "Now what?"

Mara withdrew from Jaina, bringing all her mind-feelers back into their bedroom. "Nothing to be concerned over." _Unless you're Han._

__

Jag Fel?

Mara didn't so much as hear Luke's question as interpret the meaning of his thought. _Yes._

Luke made an enlightened sound. Privately, he was pleased with the relationship. Wedge's nephew was a good man, well trained with a strong mind. He provided a suitable balance to his sometimes-impulsive niece. He also provided her with support and acceptance that she wouldn't have from most because of her slide to the Dark Side. Luke had often observed the young man carefully as he interacted with Jaina. He had no fear of her or her abilities. It gave Luke a little peace of mind to know his niece was with friends. And odd collection they were: Kyp, a sometimes immature Jedi Master; Jag Fel, a Chiss trained pilot and expert tactician; Piggy, a Gammorean pilot and mathematics expert; and Sharr Latt, the psychological warfare expert and general oddball.

But then, his best friends growing up had been a T-16 Sky hopper, a few dreams and the night sky. Not so odd, for a Skywalker. 

Mara was thinking of Han Solo and how he would react to his daughter being attached to an Imperial. Chiss-trained and deployed, but an Imperial. "You realize we'll never have to deal with what they will?"

Luke raised a brow. "Young, adolescent love?"

Mara snorted. "Young love is overrated. Aged love is better. But no, I was speaking of family. You, me, Han and Leia; we never had to deal with any in-laws. It was just us, and what _we_ wanted. There was no one else to encourage us or to stop us. But those two have the full compliment: parents, siblings, hold-parents, family friends, peers."

"I hadn't thought of that," Luke said thoughtfully. His mood grayed. "I'm not convinced Jacen is alive, but I do trust my sister's feelings. If we get him back, Jag Fel is likely in for a battle. I used to wonder how anyone would ever separate the twins; unless Jacen is seriously damaged from his time with the Vong, it's going to be harder than ever."

Mara thought it, but didn't say it. _He'll never have to deal with Anakin._ The younger Solo brother had been as protective of Jaina as Jacen was. The three children had always watched each other's backs and protected one another. Without Anakin, that circle seemed incomplete. Without Jacen, it seemed demolished. A sudden insight of Jaina's desolation at being left alone to fend for herself swept over Mara. Kyp and Jag were ideal, but they would never be her brothers. Another thought hit Mara: _Ben will never know his cousins._

Luke broke into the choking thoughts. "Find something lighter to think about." 

"Well, for starters, Ben is going to need going to need new clothing soon…."

***

Jaina padded down the corridor that led to her quarters aboard the _Mon Mothma._ The lights had been dimmed for the sleep cycle but Jaina made her way unfalteringly to the unmarked door to her luxury quarters. Inside the air was cool and the massive fine-linen draped bed was a most inviting thing. Jaina sat wearily on the edge and struggled her boots off, then stripped out of her flight pants and soft shirt to don a larger black shirt that had once belonged to Jacen. Jaina had taken it from him when she left to join Rogue Squadron. The black material had long since lost the smell of the warm spicy scent he used to wear. She slid the sheets back, crawled into bed and slipped off the oversized chrono belonging to Anakin. Gently she put it on the bedside table. 

She closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply. She hadn't used a Jedi trance in place of natural sleep in several weeks. Opening up to Jag had opened a floodgate of emotions and memories that she couldn't--didn't want to -- deal with right now. Too many images, to many memories, to allow her sleep this night. She soon felt herself slipping into the welcoming blackness of mindless rest, where she could close the darkness over her and rest comfortably, safely shut away from her own mind. 

Her datapad chirped. She opened one eye to glare at the pile of clothes next to her bed. The chirping became more insistent. She then realized that it wasn't her datapad, but her comlink. She needed to change the tone of one of them. Groaning profoundly she rolled over and reached for the cast off pants until her fingers found purchase on synthetic material. She dragged them forward and dug in her pockets until she grasped the comlink. She thumbed it on and answered it. 

One of her squadron techs answered back. There was a problem with her X-wing and Cappie wouldn't let them close enough to fix it. It could wait until morning but she wouldn't have her X-wing until that evening. Jaina told them she would be down to corral her astromech and signed off. She muttered a few a choice words in Basic and Twi'lek and rolled out of the comfortable bed. After redressing in her pants and boots she left her quarters to go BACK to the docking bay where he X-wing was, settle the situation with Cappie so she could come BACK to her quarters for the SECOND time and grab the three hours of sleep she would have left by that time. 

A few more imaginative curses were released into the empty corridor, jolting Kyp Durron out of his sleep. Jaina smiled coldly and went to kick on his door. After all, a Goddess shouldn't work while her manservant slept. 

-------------------------------

Coming soon: part four of this ride. 


	4. Chapter four

Star Wars

RI 2000-2003

Disclaimer: Characters are © to their respective people and ultimately, George Lucas. I own nothing and there is no profit involved.

Notes: Rough Draft. Ignore errors.

----------------------------------

Faint track lighting provided enough illumination for Wedge to navigate the corridors. After going down to the docking bay to check on his X-wing and coincidentally finding Jaina Solo and Kyp Durron there--Jaina Solo arguing with her astromech in choice phrases and Kyp Durron sleepily leaning on a nearby fighter--he gave in to Tycho's insistence that he get some sleep. Tycho had threatened to call Jason down if the Corellian didn't go off-duty immediately. Wedge relented, admitting that the Alderaanian pilot was right. He was not a young man anymore; he could not stay awake for sixty hours as he did when he was twenty-five.

He smiled wryly at himself. Next to his X-wing his bed had become his favorite place. Too, like his X-wing, he didn't spend nearly enough time there. His uniform felt grimy and ripe. Come to think of it, so did he. _A shower first,_ he told himself. _Then sleep._ He wondered if he would be sleeping alone. He and Iella only saw each other a few times a day in passing, sometimes for a bit longer. They couldn't always manage to coordinate their sleep schedules. 

As he walked, Wedge's eyes narrowed. A thread of suspicion entered his mind. His and Iella's trouble with the doorlock could have been much worse--for instance, the door becoming unlocked and someone walking in. his suspicions of Janson's involvement had no basis. It was a mundane glitch perfectly explainable by the beating Whistler had taken in past months. But Wedge somehow knew that it wasn't that simple, that there was foul (in Janson's words, _FUN_) play, and that it was most likely the merry pilot's fine hand at the center of it. As tired as he was it would be useless to plot revenge now; later, when Janson sprung the second half of his trap, Wedge would begin. 

***

Approximately four standard hours after Wedge gave in to sleep Mara Jade Skywalker woke alone. It was a sensation she had quickly learned that she didn't like after marrying Luke Skywalker. Her thoughts were sleep-snarled, her instincts momentarily working to catch up with reality. For a half a second she almost panicked; Ben was no where near. Then her mind clicked in fully and reality mapped itself on her brain. Ben was hundreds of thousands of light years away, supposedly safe in the Maw installation with Kam and Tionne. She was alone in the bed she shared with her husband, who was currently missing. 

Mara stretched, frowning to herself rather than enjoying the quiet solitude. It wasn't long before habit and restlessness drove her from the bed. She dressed in a pair of matte black flight pants and a creamy sleeveless top; her utility belt she slung about her waist and stepped into her boots. She slipped a blade into the upper of her right boot and attached her lightsaber to her belt. Then she gathered up her long red-gold hair, her fingers working expertly to weave the unruly tresses into a single, tight utilitarian braid that fell down the center of her back. Mara gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror to be satisfied that all catches and zippers were closed and that everything looked all right. She swept a stubborn strand of hair back and applied a little bit of balm to her chapped lips. 

Before venturing out, Mara took the time to straighten their quarters a little. She and Luke were both reasonably neat people, though other pressing concerns had diverted their attention from cleanliness. Mara didn't do much, just hurled some dirty clothes into a bin for the laundry droid and straightened their bed sheets. Other items: comlinks, various weapons and datapads, datacards and other minor equipment, was left alone. Through experience Mara had learned that those sorts of things were more readily found when left where they lay rather than neatly organized somewhere. Luke would no doubt come in sometime later in search of a data card, and Mara intended it to be right on the floor where he left it. 

Mara sent a message to the laundry droid's station, then picked up her own datapad and exited the small but comfortable quarters. There wasn't much to do, but she would find something. It was either that or thump the walls in frustration. She could always find a fighter to work on. 

She saw Leia and Han in passing. They were involved a cheerful argument that sounded like old times. Luke reached out to her almost constantly--more than once she sensed a thick rope of frustration coiling in him. He must be in another bureaucratic meeting. 

Mara entered the docking bay where Twin Suns squadron was parked. The motley array of ships was undergoing long-overdue overhauls to the engines and lasers, all except for Jag Fel's clawcraft. It stood alone, forsaken by technicians with strict orders not to touch the Colonel's ship. It made Mara smile just a bit. The serious young man was positively parental in his protectiveness of his ship. It was at first taken as an insult by the New Republic techs, but Mara suspected that no one but Colonel Fel had touched the ship since it rolled out of the factory. She could understand. Once upon a time she would have leveled a blaster at anyone approaching her Headhunter. 

Mara made her way to the launch bay where hers and Luke's X-wing were stored. This bay was crowded to give Twin Suns squadron would have extra space. Starfighters were packed in to compacity and then some. Mara caught a sense of strong resentment aimed at Jaina. It wasn't too surprising.

She stopped before a pair of X-wings. They were identical except for a few markings identifying pilot and kills. Luke's had many, many more, including a big black sphere representing the first Death Star. Mara smoothed her fingertips across the underside of Luke's fuselage and down the forward edge of his lower S-foil. Stepping away from his starboard wingtip laser she grabbed hold of the ladder fixed to the side of her ship and hauled herself up. Rather than pull herself into the cockpit she climbed around, perching atop her portside engine. There were several things she could do from her position but she opted to sit for a minute. The remaining effects of the disease hadn't evaporated as quickly as she would have liked and she was forced to stillness on occasion. 

Jaina's quiet approach tickled her link with her apprentice. The dark haired young woman scaled to the top of the X-wing easily and at Mara's easy gesture, she settled between the empty droid socket and the canopy, her back against the angled transparasteel. Jaina was similarly dressed in a fitted white top and loose pants. In place of boots she wore athletic shoes with better-than-standard gripping soles and chunky chrono that Mara recognized as being one of Anakin's. Her youngest nephew had been straightforward and pragmatic from an angular view. He paid attention to time and orbits, small details of the like that were handy to know but basically inconsequential--unless one had a sudden need to use such knowledge to escape trouble…as Anakin often did. 

The Jedi woman considered the expression of purpose and frustration on Jaina's face. With a slight hint of amusement she asked, "How has your day been going?"

A derisive snort escaped Jaina. "Wonderful," she said sarcastically. "Aside from everyone in Starfighter Command hating me with an intense passion, the parts I blew in my X-wing happen to be the ones we don't have in stock." Jaina paused, as if considering something. Then she said, "Jag took the day off without requesting leave…just left his paperwork with Kyp and disappeared."

"I don't Jag Fel that well, but judging from what I've seen he's as reliable and committed as they come," Mara said thoughtfully. "If he took the time, he must have needed it."

An expression of exasperation and resignation twisted Jaina's pretty features. "That's what I told myself, but I would like to _know _when he's going to do these things."

"So tell him that." 

"_If_ I find him," Jaina added dryly. "He's also really good at disappearing."

"Wonder if he's taking lessons from Luke," Mara muttered.

"What?"

"Nevermind." Mara gave her niece a speculative look. "You came here for something."

"I actually came to ask you where to find Uncle Luke, but from your previous comment, I'd say you don't know either."

"Not really," Mara admitted. "We got over the obsessive stage in our marriage early on. We were driving each other nuts."

Jaina found that amusing. She could imagine what a snubfighter jock and a former Imperial agent would do with someone looking over their shoulder all the time. She didn't think she'd do so well either. She started to rise, reluctant to head back. The questions she wanted to bring to Luke still nagged but would have to wait. "If you see Uncle Luke, tell him I'm looking for him, but don't send him after me. He'll never find me. Hopefully I can catch up to him later."

Mara understood that Jaina wasn't ready to share whatever was bothering her. She exchanged casual good-byes with the younger woman and watched her climb down and walk across the docking bay. A few minutes later she got to work, removing that irritating piece of loose metal that jangled about in her engine hatch in-flight, and replacing a few worn parts. 

It was sometimelater when an officer hurried up to tell her that a message had been relayed to them via another cruiser from Tendra Calrissian. 

Mara reviewed the message in a quiet conference room. The statuesque wife of Lando Calrissian had the same firm, self-assured manner in hologram that she did in person. She was to the point and precise, a quality Mara liked. 

"Our last two runs were intercepted," the hologram was saying. "I don't think Shelter's location had been compromised and Kam agrees with me on this, but somehow the Vong keep hitting us where it hurts. Whether we have a leak or they're just getting lucky, we haven't been able to confirm. But we're running low on supplies. Foodstuffs are only going to last another few weeks at most, and we need some equipment. We need ships to make it through."

Mara shut down the message. She leaned back in the chair with her arms crossed. She was still considering the problem several minutes later when Luke walked in. he quickly kissed her forehead and said, "I thought I'd find you here." He settled on the table edge in front of her and accepted her boot heel in his lap. He almost absently rubbed her strong muscles in her calf while observing the look on her face. "Wedge told me a message form Tendra came in. I take it that it's not good?"

"Shelter's running low on supplies," Mara told him. "And the Vong are getting luckier in their attacks."

"Luckier or smarter?" Luke questioned.

"Tendra seems to think only luckier. She and Kam have agreed that Shelter's location hasn't been compromised."

"It's surprising it has gone this long undetected," Luke commented. "Maybe we should just think about relocating."

His wife shook her head. "We haven't found a place to go yet. Besides, if the Vong's odds were good enough to allow them to unintentionally catch our ships _twice_, it says they're in the neighborhood. That's too close to risk a sudden evacuation with the students." Mara switched out her legs in Luke's grasp and sank lower in the conforming chair. "Figuring out how to do this will give me something to do," she said.

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "I talked to Wedge. He said to make up a list of what we need and check it against the fleet's remaining supplies. He doesn't think it'll be much, but he says we're welcome to what they don't immediately need."

Mara said, "I'll get started on that." Luke's chrono chirped but he seemed not to hear it. Mara raised one brow. "Do you have somewhere to go?" When he didn't immediately answer she tapped her boot against his chest. "Mara to Luke--come back down here farmboy." 

Luke blinked away his far off vision. He silenced the alarm and reluctantly set Mara's boot heel on the table. "Another round of brainstorming over how to keep the bureaucrats at bay so we have breathing room to work in." A tinge of disgust laced his voice. 

"A rebel's work is never done." Mara rose and slapped him on the thigh. "Have fun."

***

Jag Fel was scrolling through endless visual data in a small media room off a larger conference room. His rigid posture had given way to a more casual attitude over the last few hours. _If my father could this._ Jag Fel had continually been accused of one thing through out his life: He was too formal. _Not so now. I've gotten the full scoundrel education from Jaina and Uncle_. 

He absently rubbed the fingers of his right hand together as he searched. He couldn't seem to find what he needed. He knew it had to exist, but it seemed not to be in the Star Destroyer's memory banks. It occurred to him that this particular destroyer was fairly new and perhaps not possessing the information he sought. It could also just be buried incredibly deep in the system.

He was still patiently reviewing Data when Mara Jade Skywalker stepped into the room. She seemed surprised to see him there; as surprised as he did at her sudden entrance. Jag quickly recovered and offered the wife of Luke Skywalker a formal greeting. Mara Jade Skywalker returned it and politely inquired what he was doing. 

It wasn't long before they discovered that they could be of help to one another.

----------------------------------

Coming soon: Part five.

A/N: Sorry about the wait. *Bashfully steps beneath sign proclaiming, "_LAZY_!"* 

Reviews make the chapters appear…


	5. Chapter five

Star Wars

RI 2000-2003

Disclaimer: Characters are © to their respective people and ultimately, George Lucas. I own nothing and there is no profit involved.

Notes: Rough Draft. Ignore errors.

----------------------------------

Jaina's boot heels clicked softly on the metal flooring, the only sound in the eerily silent corridor. She was deep in the bowels of the _Mon Mothma_, walking through a little-used hallway. Despite being lighted as well as a frequently used hallway, there was an abandoned feeling to it. She wondered why Jag would be down in this area. She glanced at the little map carefully sketched on a piece of flimsy to make certain she was still going in the right direction. 

Despite Jag's cryptic behavior and her curiosity, her mind wandered. After speaking with her aunt that morning Jaina had returned to the hangar given to Twin Suns. Several Twin Suns pilots were working on their fighters, Twin Suns Eight among them. Jaina's plans instantly changed and she spent some time in the hanger observing her pilot. He went through the motions and made nice enough with the rest of the unit, but something was off about Twin Suns Eight. The tall human had been part of an elite X-wing unit until the defense of Coruscant; after it, he was all that was left of that unit. He'd been with Twin Suns since Luke Skywalker had put the squad together and had never failed an objective or a squadronmate. 

No, it wasn't his performance that concerned Jaina. It was something else, a subtle prodding through the Force that prompted her to watch him closely. She wished she could catch up with her uncle to speak with him about the pilot. 

Jaina snapped back to reality when she realized she'd missed a turn somewhere. She grunted a wookie curse to herself. Was getting her lost in the guts of a ship some weird assertion of Jag's strange side? Painstakingly she backtracked to her point of misdirection and chose the correct path this time. according to the map, she should be close to whatever the circled X on the little map represented. 

The hallway she turned down was dark but someone had placed glowrods along the edges of the walls to lead her. Jaina moved carefully, using her Jedi senses until her eyes adjusted to the dark. The fingers of one hand trailed along the wall at elbow height as she walked, creating a quiet rasp. It was inky dark but surprisingly not oppressive in the very long hallway. Jaina was comfortable once her eyes adjusted. 

Very soon she felt Jag's strong presence in the Force. He was still and calm, as always. More and more often Jaina found herself touching the steady burn of his nova-bright presence in the Force. It calmed her when she was upset and steadied her when she couldn't shake her mental disquiet. 

Alone at night it was reassurance that *someone* was still there. Not everyone she loved was lost to her. 

Jaina's feet were beginning to hurt from the extended walking. She made a face. Tenel Ka would tell her that she needed to do more physical exercise. Which was true. Since the beginning of the war she hadn't had much time for the kind of intense physical training she'd kept up at the academy, and then Rogue Squadron now her own command prevented her from training entirely. 

She felt a small measure of triumph when she reached a slightly ajar door that seemed to coincide with the X on the map. Jag's presence on the other side confirmed it. She folded the piece of flimsy deftly between her fingers and tucked it into her pants, then pushed the door in. The room beyond was faintly lit by a few more glowrods tossed down at strategic locations and Jaina noted thick pallet made of blankets and pillows on the floor. 

Jag was sitting with his back to the wall, his legs drawn up and his toned arms folded over his knees. He watched Jaina evenly as she stood in the doorway surveying the room. In the half-darkness his pale green eyes glowed frostily. "It took you quite a while to get here," he said while rising. 

Jaina smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I'm not used to wandering around the darkened guts of a Star Destroyer," she answered dryly. Her hand came up to clasp his as he drew close, her other falling to rest on his workout-hardened abdomen. Jag kept in top physical shape. She curled her fingers around the material of his flight suit and pulled his body flush against hers. "It is a good hiding place, though," she admitted as his head bent to gently nuzzle her neck. "No one would find us down here. How long did it take you to find this place?"

Jag's lips curved into a subtle smile as he moved to Jaina's mouth and gave her a light kiss. "Two days before I stopped getting lost," he said. 

Her soft laugh bounced off the bare metal walls. She rose high on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and return his whisper kiss with more energy. Desire and something sweeter coursed through her veins as a familiar tide of thrilling heat shivered up her spine. It happened every time she was in Jag's embrace. 

Jag's hands drifted low on her back and she caught a sudden strong impression from him, one that had nothing to do with honorable or innocent intentions. The strength of his desire caught her momentarily by surprise. Something like fear and anticipation raced across her nerves. She was certain he could feel her trembling. Jaina loved this black-haired pilot; she knew that if he wanted something she wouldn't refuse. 

But with effort Jag brought himself back under control. Her touched her face lightly and drew back from her very gently, looking down at her lovely face as he looked at no one else. A tremulous smile touched Jaina's lips as she watched him with her dark eyes. Jag knew that she had felt his momentary lapse in control. In that moment he wanted to take her down to the pile of blankets on the floor. He was still half-tempted, but his self-discipline was back. If their relationship progressed that far--if neither of them died--there would be a time and a place for it. 

With great care he disentangled himself from her embrace and courteously handed her down onto the soft seat he had made on the floor. Jaina pressed close to his side when he settled cross-legged next to her. 'So what are we doing down here?" her voice was soft and low. 

Jag leaned around her and reached behind a short tarp covered storage container. He produced a container of food that had a wonderful smell, and a delicate set of fine dinnerware. Jaina took the dishes and silverware and set them up while Jag lit a pair of slender white candle in elegant silver holders. The room was filled with the faint sound of touching crystal as Jag sat two elegant stemmed glasses down and filled them with a rose-colored wine. There was also a bottle of Corellian whiskey off to one side. He faced her, his handsome face thrown into mysterious shadow and light by the flickering candlelight. "This is dinner," he said quietly. 

Jaina impulsively cradled his jaw in one hand and brushed her lips across his. "It's beautiful," she whispered to him. Then she pulled back and grinned impishly. "And I'm starving."

Jag grinned at her in return. He stretched one leg out and began pointing out the various dishes with his fork, explaining, "This isn't from a synth unit, either."

"Jagged Fel, are you telling me you cooked this?!" Jaina stared at him in disbelief. 

Jag felt himself blush. "My mother thought it was a skill we should have. All of us know how to cook, even elaborate dishes for formal meals."

"I thought I was doing good to be able to do my own laundry," Jaina muttered. She speared a small bite of marinated meat and almost moaned in delight when she chewed. After weeks of the bland food served to the pilots, the decadent food was almost too much. Jaina ate slowly and enjoyed every delicious bite, taking small sips of the wine as she ate. Jag apparently knew wine as well as he knew food because the delicate flavor of the blush wine perfectly complimented the food. 

Jag watched her through dinner with quiet pleasure. A part of him noted the way she ate and drank, balancing food and drink in just the proper fashion. It was purely unconscious on her part, something only a person extensively trained in the fine points of a formal dinner could do. Jag supposed it came from innumerable diplomatic dinners she had undoubtedly attended in her life. He had only seen her in two such situations but he recalled her perfect deportment even then. The snug black shirt and black pants were a far cry from her Jedi robes or the low-cut Hapan gown but he thought she looked just as beautiful. 

After they finished dinner Jag produced a second surprise--a ryshcate. He said the traditional words and sliced two pieces off, then poured small shots of the whiskey for them. Jaina was less reserved, tossing back the first shot in one businesslike gulp and nibbling on the crumbly sweet cake. The light conversation they had shared over dinner trailed off Jaina's body leaned against him, soft and warm. she soberly ate her ryshcate while focusing her attention somewhere inside her thoughts. 

Jag was quietly enjoying the brown sugar flavor of the ryshcate and the precious time alone with Jaina. Their relationship had rapidly jumped through a half dozen phases in a relatively short time, and had come at the very worst time in her life. Under such stressful circumstances, it sometimes amazed him that they had a relationship at all. 

His thoughts moved back to the diplomatic reception on Ithor. He had very deliberately sought her out, initially intrigued by who she was and by her skill. Few in the Republic had presented themselves as difficult a kill as this daughter of the Princess of Alderaan. 

Meeting her face to face was a moment that would stay with him. It had been reasonable to assume she would be attractive; Leia Organa was a lovely woman and Jag had overheard many speak of the resemblance between mother and daughter. He hadn't expected her to be so striking.

He *really* hadn't expected her to affect *him. * 

Women of all ages had sought his attention since he was fourteen years old but he'd always viewed them rather distantly, even the most beautiful. But Jaina Solo seemed to sparkle with some internal glow that glittered enigmatically in her eyes and lurked on her lips when she smiled. Jag hadn't been prepared to deal with the sudden onslaught of new feelings that she provoked.

On sight, no less, before any words passed between them. 

He enjoyed her company but did not let her distract from his duties. Later, back under his father's command though, he found it difficult to sweep his thoughts of her aside. For months he kept remembering her laugh, her eyes, her light touches so freely given. Then came the scouting mission to Hapes that led to their second meeting. After that, Borleias. 

"What are you thinking about over there?" Jaina licked the last crumbs from her fingertips.

"Can't you tell with your Jedi insights?"

Jaina blew out her breath. "I don't read minds, Jag."

__

Probably a good thing, he thought. "I was thinking about the past year." He hoped she wouldn't press for details. She didn't, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "I try not to," she said shortly. 

"Understandable." 

Her face changed; she frowned and her brow furrowed. Jag didn't want her to slip too far into grim thoughts of her brothers. He tucked a strand of shining dark hair back and told her gently, "Stay here." He got up and crossed the room to a sack sitting atop a crate. He searched around inside for a moment and withdrew an object no larger than his palm. Striding back to the center of the room her crouch down and placed the object on the floor, tapping the sides in a pattern sequence.

Jaina watched him curiously, distracted from thoughts of her brothers by Jag's actions. She thought perhaps that was deliberate on his part. She frowned as he set a holocube on the floor and entered a code. Then he gathered up the few glowrods scattered about and threw them beneath the edge of one of the tarps to douse the light. He returned to her side on the pallet. Jaina caught a faint sense of uncertainty from him. She was about to ask him what was going on when the Holocube sprang to life. Jag quickly blew out the candles and Jaina turned away from him to look around. 

The little room was filled with stars. The ceiling, walls and floor and the air around them were filled with hundreds of lightpoints.

It was holoprojection of a system's stars, a very detailed and finely digitized starmap. With the slight chill to the air in the room, it was like actually being in space to Jaina. Then she realized that she recognized the constellations and understood what she was looking at. 

Yavin system's stars. Specifically, the view from the top of the Great Temple on Yavin 4.

Jaina could only look around in shock. Her throat closed on her breath, partially choking her. She wasn't aware of the stinging tears rapidly filling her eyes as her gaze darted about the room. Her voice broke when she whispered weakly, "How?"

Jag was truly concerned that he had made a serious mistake in doing this. "I spent some time digging through star maps on the ship's computer."

'I'm surprised you found them."

"I didn't." Jag sighed. He hesitated, then said, "Your aunt helped me. She pulled the maps from the memory banks of Artoo and your father's ship."

Jaina looked at him then. There was barely enough light to make out her features but he could clearly see the brittle glitter of tears in her eyes. Her pale face seemed to be frozen in a numbly stunned expression. A muscle in one smooth cheek flinched. 

Jag made up his mind then that it had been a disgusting misjudgment on his part and started to rise to turn off the holocube and apologize. Jaina grabbed his arm with surprising speed and pulled him back down. "No…leave it." Her voice was soft and pleading in the darkness. Jag had only heard that degree of vulnerability from her once before. 

He felt the blankets beneath him move a little. Jaina was suddenly pressed very close to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and her head resting on his chest. He felt slight tremors in her slender frame and knew she was crying, though she made no sound. He slipped one hand behind her back and held her close. With his other hand he stroked her hair and occasionally caressed her cheek, wiping away tears. 

She only allowed herself to cry for a few moments. She stayed in his arms, sniffling, for much longer. Finally she pulled back until she could see him. He was caught off guard to see the smile on her face. It was very small, sad and wistful, but a definite smile. She wiggled around in his grasp and pushed herself to press her mouth to his. Jag responded automatically, meeting her tender lips in a sweet, firm kiss. When she pulled back her smile had changed to something more intimate and less readily identifiable. A strange shiver thrilled down his spine at her look. 

"Thank you," she whispered huskily. 

He blinked. "I thought I made a mistake," he answered uncertainly. 

She only shook her head, the strange little enigmatic smile still in place. Abruptly she twisted around so that she was reclining comfortably against him and threw one arm up to encircle his neck. "Do you want to hear about some of these constellations?"

Jag settled his arms around her waist, his fingers resting lightly on her ribs and his. He dropped his head low over her shoulder and placed a tiny kiss on the hinge of her jaw. 'Tell me," he murmured in her ear. 

Jaina smiled to herself and pointed with her free hand to a more obvious constellation floating a meter to their right. "That one is called Galaen. He's a Massassian legend. He was fabled to be the guardian beast of a gateway leading to the birthplace of the stars…"

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End part five

*Waves hand before you* Review….review…review…

And yes I DO think I'm a Jedi, waving my hand around like that.

Author's Notes, added September 29: I am NOT getting enough reviews for this story. I write for your amusement and mine, and I need encouragement to keep writing. Otherwise I lose interest and inspiration. If you read this fic, please leave a review for me. If one or two of you would even drop me an e-mail (even--or especially-- to offer *constructive* criticism) that would be really great. 

Second Note for September 29: I'm going to proofread this chapter and make minor draft changes later tonight, instead of doing my schoolwork. =D Also, I hope to be back by the end of next week with a new and fully proof-read chapter, and a *really* explanation for my horribly long absence. 

__

Hasta la Vista, Resh


	6. Chapter six

Star Wars

RI 2000-2004

Disclaimer: Characters are © to their respective people and ultimately, George Lucas. I own nothing and there is no profit involved.

Notes: Rough Draft. Ignore errors.

----------------------------------

Wedge barely had time to think for himself in the middle of commanding a fleet and laying the foundation for a Rebellion. It occurred to him that he was plotting to undermine the very government he had risked his life and lost friends and sweated blood for thirty years earlier. The irony was almost ridiculous. 

The light knock on his office door was a welcome interruption to his thoughts. Wedge raised his clear brown eyes. "Come in, Colonel."

"Very formal," Tycho Celchu remarked.

"Force of habit." Too carelessly, Wedge swept desk clutter to the floor. "Sit down. Take off your boots. Prop your feet up. Dance and sing for me."

Taking a seat, Tycho laid one booted ankle over the opposite knee and watched Wedge evenly, pointedly ignoring the offer to make an idiot of himself. The aging General smiled, though weary. "Nice to know some things haven't changed."

Inclining his head in silent acknowledgement, the Alderaanian man responded, "If you want song and dance, you'll have to call on Janson."

At mention of the merry pilot, Wedge's expression remolded into a scowl. "Yes, Janson."

Humor flickered across Tycho's reserved expression. "What was going on at breakfast this morning?" Janson had shown up in the officer's mess wearing a bodysuit designed to make the wearer appear naked. He had worn boots and a cape over this, and had called himself Wedge Antilles, though his astromech had been repainted to look like Corran Horn's droid. Only Wedge understood for certain what he meant. It had to be a very good joke for Janson to be satisfied with only that. 

"We'll call it a personal affront and leave it there."

"But there will be retaliation?" Tycho inquired with interest.

A sort of thin smile with a nasty edge to it appeared on Wedge's angular features. He didn't wear that smile often and for whomever it was directed at it usually meant embarrassment at the very least, and utter humiliation at the worst. "I'll be consulting with Intelligence for a proper response," Wedge said calmly. His brown eyes glinted with a promise of mayhem. 

Tycho raised a brow. So, whatever it was involved Iella as well. Two Corellians were considered a conspiracy; he wondered what a general and a Corsec officer would be. Tycho gave one of his rare unguarded smiles, looking forward to seeing how it played out. 

They spoke for a few minutes more before duty called Tycho away. Wedge sat by himself for only a few minutes before the door was knocked on again. The blows were heavy and deep, indicating that a very big fist was doing the pounding. It gave Wedge a pretty good idea of who was on the other side. "Enter!"

The pair that entered his office would have been an unusual sight anywhere except in a military that had been born--as a direct result--of a revolt against a legitimate, if cruel and unfair, government. That's what passed through Wedge's mind when Voort "Piggy" saBinring and Sharr Latt came through his doorway. They saluted and waited for him to return it and wave to the chairs before seating themselves. 

__

Seating might be too strong of a word, Wedge thought. Sharr more or less dumped his skinny human body in the smallest of the four chairs arranged around the desk. Piggy was more careful out of necessity; throwing his bulk down would break any piece of furniture, chair or otherwise. He settled his massive body in an oversized chair that Wedge had acquired specifically for seating larger species. It was a salvaged short couch from a freighter with arms welded on and thick cushioning. It was just big enough to accommodate Piggy's bulk. The Gammorean closed his tiny eyes and grunted deeply with pleasure. He opened his eyes again and focused on Wedge. "I have been standing all day," he explained. Wedge looked at him with mild sympathy. Despite having stout legs as thick as tree trunks, Piggy carried a great deal of weight. He gave them a moment to get comfortable before turning to business. 

"All right," Wedge said. "Report."

Piggy and Sharr exchanged glances; Sharr pulled himself upright and popped his neck, a sign that he was ready to begin. "The Goddess is doing well, better than we'd expected. She doesn't forget herself and rarely ever slips anymore."

"How about her command of Twin Suns?"

"Complete," Piggy responded. "They respect her, even if not everyone likes her. They see that she has the skill and experience."

Wedge steepled his fingers. He frowned, looking back and forth between the two Wraiths-turned-temporary-Twin Suns-pilots. "What of your other concerns?" He was speaking Jaina's relation to his nephew. Piggy and Sharr thought it should be discouraged to prevent it from interfering with the Goddess Ruse. 

Piggy looked reluctant. "They are discreet," he said.

"Not discreet enough," Sharr interjected, scowling. "People are going to start noticing, especially if they keep disappearing at the same times, like they did today."

Wedge demanded,"What?"

Piggy folded his stubby-fingered hands over the wide, blubbery expanse of his belly. "They have disappeared," He repeated. "We've tried to contact them. Repeatedly. They don't answer their comlinks. Attempts to locate them produced similar results. At any rate, no one has seen Colonel Fel since early this morning. Jaina was last seen in the hanger just after lunch." 

Wedge rubbed his temples. On a ship sixteen hundred meters long and carrying a nearly-full compliment of ships in addition to all the little spaces in the construction design, there was almost no limit to the number of good places to hide. It was a tempting idea. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it. 

"This is another reason why I wanted to advise her stow her relationship with Fel-"

"Be quiet, Sharr," Wedge interrupted. He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I'm reluctant to tell them to break it off. Young love aside, they provide support for one another. Jagged isn't well liked because of who he is and where he comes from, but Jaina's in an even worse spot--first because of her slip to the darkside, and now this Goddess thing. I've spoken with Kyp Durron at length about this. He seems to think having Jag close to Jaina is a good thing. " 

"Good for Jaina, maybe, bad for the ruse-"

"I said shut up." Wedge leaned on his desk and fisted his hands beneath his chin. He focused his gaze on Piggy. The large being had been strangely quiet. He normally met Sharr comment for comment and insult to barb. Wedge sliced his gaze to skinny human in the ridiculous dress. "You've made it clear that you think it's a bad idea for this--a relation between my nephew and Jaina--to continue. How certain are you that it will damage what we're trying to accomplish with the Goddess Ruse?"

"Absolutely certain," Sharr answered. "If a spy sees them and understands what he's seeing."

" 'Absolutely' and 'if' don't generally go in the same sentence," Wedge remarked. "What about you, Piggy?"

"It's a complicated and complex situation, with good and bad attributes going both ways," Piggy answered neutrally. 

Wedge stared at the massive porcine sentient, waiting for more. It became clear fairly quickly that Piggy wasn't going to say anything else. The cryptic response was unlike the Wraith's normally direct-and-factually manner of answering. It became clear to Wedge that the decision was in his hands. "Leave them alone," he said decisively. 

He saw the dissatisfied look cross Sharr's face. "And don't give them a hard time about it either," he warned. "Life in war is bad enough without the kind of pressure Jaina's dealing with. Don't add more because there's a situation you don't like."

Wedge knew he might be accused of favoritism…and it might not be far off. But Wedge felt strongly about this. The two young pilots in question were both very close to his heart, like family. One of them *was* family, a tentative connection to a sister he hadn't seen in twenty years, hopefully a first step in re-establishing contact with her. Jaina was his hold-daughter, a precious child he had watched grow into a striking young woman. Close enough to be family. And his family--though lucky so far to escape injury and death that plagued so many--had been hurt enough.

******

Jag and Jaina fell asleep on the soft pile of blankets, tangled together beneath Jag's flight jacket. Jaina had no idea what time it was when she drifted up from her dreamless sleep. She wasn't particularly inclined to move to find out. She pressed closer to Jag's side, wrapped securely in his arm, resting her head on his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her cheek. To Jaina, the cool dark room and the warm presence next to her were shelter from the tumult that reigned over her waking moments. She hadn't realized how tense she'd become until she had relaxed. 

Jaina lifted her head from Jag's chest to look up at him and found him already staring down at her. His icy green eyes narrowed in the slightest of smiles for her. He had slept little, mostly just content to be Jaina's pillow for awhile. Feeling her taut body gradually relax as she slept was gratifying. It meant dinner had accomplished its purpose. 

He freed one hand to brush back a stray lock of her hair, turning the economical movement into a brief caress of her cheek. Jaina closed her eyes and turned into his palm, giving it a light kiss. Her eyes opened again and found his, a slight smile playing on her lips. Jag ran his fingers through her hair a few more times, brushing it away from her face, then slipped his hand back beneath his head. Jaina yawned and shifted, snuggling closer to his side and dropping her chin to rest on his ribs. "I guess we should start cleaning up," she said reluctantly. 

Jag lifted his wrist to peer at his watch over her shoulder. It was much later than he thought. Jaina had slept for more than two hours. "Almost twenty-three hundred," he murmured. "I suppose you're right." It occurred to Jag that they'd been out of contact for more than five hours. His uncle might be organizing a search party by now. 

Jaina reluctantly sat up, shivering despite of the flight jacket around her shoulders. It felt chilly without Jag's warmth. While she reached for the boots she had cast aside hours ago he rose and began cleaning up. He shuffled around in his bag for more glowsticks first and snapped them in half to release the light-producing chemicals. He gathered up the trash and packed the dishes, silverware and glasses with care. Jaina helped him sort out the remaining food into the proper containers. They hadn't finished the brandy or the wine so Jag tightly re-corked the bottles for later. While he slipped everything back into his pack, Jaina shut down the holocube and gathered up all the glowrods and sticks lying around. 

At one point Jaina wrapped her arms around Jag from behind and laid her cheek on his back. Her right hand gently explored the tight muscles of his abdomen and chest. She worked her way up to his collar bone and across his wonderfully defined upper chest, lightly rubbing and massaging with her fingertips. With great deliberation she trailed her fingers back down the center of his rib cage, all the way down to the waistband of his flightpants, then lightly raked her fingernails across his belly. 

Jag held perfectly still, a slight shudder passing through his body once. Jaina sensed and felt his heartrate increase. His breathing became lighter and faster. Jag didn't stand for this kind of teasing for much longer. He grabbed her hands to still them and twisted around. Jag picked her up and set her down atop one of the tarp-covered crates, then stepped smoothly between her legs and kissed her. When he pulled back her touched his slightly damn forehead to hers. His hands rested on the junction of her neck and shoulders, stroking the underside of her jaw with his thumbs. Jaina leaned against him, her brandy colored gaze fixed sadly on his frosty green eyes. 

Jag's voice broke the quiet. "We need to finish here and go." 

"I know," Jaina answered miserably. She didn't want to leave. She knew that time alone with Jag was going to be harder and harder to get, especially if her 'advisors' had their way. She locked her legs around him to prevent him from backing away and gave him one last long, lingering kiss. Then, heaving a sigh, she allowed him to pull her off the crate and set her on her feet. Jaina held on to him for a few seconds, then dropped her arms and turned away blindly to gather their things up. Jag quietly followed suit and escorted her to the door, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back. The click of the door behind them seemed like an end signal to Jaina. 

Out in the hallway she used the Force to call the glowrods to her hand as they walked. Wordlessly she handed them to Jag, who switched them off and deposited them in his bag. They were almost to the end of the line when something struck the ship.

Jaina was tossed sideways to the floor. Jag was thrown against the wall. He managed to turn at the last second and take the impact on his back. He slid to a crouch and set his bag on the floor. Jaina had already recovered and was climbing to her feet when a second projectile rocked the massive Star Destroyer. Delayed alarms began to shriek and a cool voice repeated over and over, "All pilots to ships. All pilots to ships." Another voice, not nearly so calm, broke in over the automated call to announce, "All crew to battle stations. A Yuzhaan Vong fleet has arrived in-system…"

-------------------------------------------------

End chapter Six.

Ohh, a cliffhanger. Chapter seven hopefully coming soon, with sufficient reviews. 

Author's notes: All right. I promised you my really good excuse, and here it is: I became very sick in August and had to be hospitalized for two weeks. Since then I've been on tons of medication and painkillers, and some days are just worse than others. Between my health and freshman college courses, I've been kind of struggling to create a new kind of school/life balance. Doesn't always leave time and energy to write. So. I'll try my best with the writing, if you'll keep reviewing and keep me interested in writing these things. 

TTFN, Resh. 


	7. Chapter seven

Star Wars

RI 2000-2004

Disclaimer: Characters are © to their respective people and ultimately, George Lucas. I own nothing and there is no profit involved.

Notes: Ignore errors.

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" All pilots to ships, all pilots to ships…"

Kyp Durron clambered into his cockpit and yanked his helmet on. The astromech snugged in the socket behind him whistled a short greeting. "Hi," Kyp replied. He tugged on his gloves and ran down his checklist mentally, frowning down at his controls as he did so. Once situated and strapped in Kyp started on his preflight. Briefly his gaze lifted to the two ships sitting idle amidst the orderly confusion: the pristine white X-wing and the irregular black Clawcraft. Because Jaina and Jag couldn't be located or reached, Kyp had been given temporary command of the squad…perhaps permanently, if they didn't show up in a hurry. 

Flight control signaled Kyp in the middle of his prep. "Twin Suns Leader, hold for launch code." 

"Copy, Control." He flipped to the squadron's private channel. "No time for full checks today, people. Bring them on-line and call it off by the numbers."

"Twin Suns Four, ready."

"Twin Suns Five is green."

"Twins Six--four green and ready to go."

The pilots continued in order. Kyp frowned slightly at the sound of Twin Suns Eight's flat tones. While he didn't fully agree with Jaina's conviction that the tall human was up to something, he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of wrongness he got from the pilot. It fluttered unpleasantly in his stomach when Eight was near. There was little he could do from his cockpit seconds before launching into battle, however, so Kyp resolved to keep an eye on him and then pushed his concerns aside. As long as Eight did his job as a pilot and wingman, Kyp would be satisfied. 

Just as Twin Suns Twelve was making a quip about the normal flux in his starboard engine, Jaina and Jag entered the hangar at a dead run. More than a few looks were shot their way by the ground crews working to get the X-wings ready. The Rogues had been moved in with Twin Suns earlier, more than doubling the number of deck personnel. Now curiosity rose like heat waves off tarmac under a blistering sun. Through the Force, Kyp felt a rise of questions from Rogue Nine, Corran Horn, an empathic equivalent to raising a brow inquiringly. Kyp had known, of course, that Jag and Jaina were together in their absence. 

The pair separated and headed for their respective ships. Kyp directed his astromech to route a private message through Jaina's R2 unit as soon as she was seated in her cockpit. "So nice of you to join us, Goddess."

"You're welcome," Jaina retorted, but without much heat and the quick glance she spared him lacked venom.

Very interesting, Kyp mused. He looked over at the black Clawcraft. Purpose and the anonymous TIE pilot helmet masked Jagged Fel's features. Kyp was beginning to believe the young man possessed a bit of magic as well as superior piloting skills. Whatever Jag had planned for Jaina that evening had apparently been successful. The tension eating at her was gone, and Jaina was calm and alert. Even as Kyp was looking wonderingly at Jag's ship, she was coolly finishing her quick-start up and informing control of her presence. Then she and the rest of the squadron sat back and waited.

The hanger echoed with dull blasts as the shields were impacted upon. One impact struck hard enough to shake loose some of the ceiling struts. They fell, some striking the group of X-wings. "Topside shields up," Jaina ordered as the lights flickered and surged. The last thing Jaina wanted was a piece of the falling roof taking out a shield generator or a laser cannon. "And turn your running lights on." A haze of blue appeared over the grouped fighters as the pilots obeyed. 

As chaos swelled a crust of ice began in Jaina's stomach and spread through her body. Her mind became still and orderly, all stray thoughts and emotions coldly thrust away so all that remained was calculation and reflex . Even the phantom warmth of Jag's touch was forgotten. 

From his cockpit Kyp felt the change in Jaina, sensed her mind becoming focused. It was almost frightening how quickly the lively energy dropped away, leaving a chilled shell and deadly calm. Kyp wondered if Jaina was truly fully aware of this change in herself. 

Minutes passed and it was clear that the _Mon Mothma_ was taking a heavy beating as a result of being caught off-guard. Through the magcon bubble Kyp could see a slice of another Star Destroyer in the fleet. It, too, was being barraged. Kyp saw the first coralskipper flash past his small window of spaceview and thought _That's it. Any second now._

"Twin Suns squadron--Launch."

Jaina roared out of the hanger with Kyp and Jag tucked in close and the rest of the squadron in formation behind her. Immediately she climbed; she pulled her nose hard into a flip-over and rotated so that she was right side up as she flashed over top of the Mon Mothma. Jaina pulled her X-wing around in a wide loop that gave her a broad view of the battle, her eyes quickly taking in the scene. A Yuuzhan Vong fleet consisting of six capital ships, eight lighter warcraft and dozen of smaller ships, each half the size of an ImpStar Deuce, was mercilessly pounding on non-organic ships. With the squadrons of coral skippers now flaking off their carrier ships like scabs, the partial Republic fleet in orbit over Poluga II would be completely overwhelmed.

__

And destroyed. In an instant Jaina knew the only chance was to use the starfighters as a defensive screen while the larger ships attempted to flee into hyperspace. The orders she received an instant later over the comm confirmed it. "All right Twins. This is going to be ugly. Break by trios and make bombing runs on the larger ships, then engage the skips at will. "

A flurry of voices acknowledged her. Her squadron suddenly separated like a meteor blown to shards and scattered as wing trios broke off and vectored in at the gigantic ships. Jaina chose the largest for herself; a vaguely oblong ship colored in unattractive browns and yellows. Jag sped out in front, firing his lasers at maximum range and juking unpredictably. Voids opened to swallow his shots, tracking ahead to catch his future shots. 

Jaina and Kyp hurled a pair of shadow bombs in his wake. With Jag's ship shielding the bombs from detection and his efforts to keep the defenses tied up, the warheads slipped through, impacting spectacularly against the roughhewn hull. The ship itself wasn't destroyed, but a great portion of her upper portside was now gone. Bodies and bits of debris that weren't instantly vaporized by the blast were blown out of the gaping hole by the venting atmosphere. Another sudden explosion toward the stern of the ship opened another deep gash that did cause her to falter. In the confusion Jag had changed vectors as only a TIE fighter could, zipped back on a course roughly one hundred and twenty degrees to his original course and dropped two of his missiles on the stern. It was a calculated gamble that the ship wouldn't have recovered quickly enough from the shock to intercept his shots. He was right, as always. Jaina had to suppress as smile as Jag swung in behind her. Reminding herself quickly that she couldn't show him too much favoritism, she made a mental note to congratulate him later--privately. 

An idea occurred to Jaina--a way she could use her role as the Vong's most hated enemy to her advantage. She opened the private channel she shared with Kyp and Jag and quickly outlined her idea. "If they want me so much," she said, "Let's show them I'm here. Maybe it will distract them enough to buy the others some breathing room." Jag double clicked his comm in agreement. Jaina had hoped for a word from him. Despite the confidence in her voice, she felt a knot of tension in her gut. _Get over it. Romance has made you a sap. _Still, it would have been nice to hear his voice, even a clinical tone.

They staged at the dead center of the battle. Working nearly as three parts of a single mind she, Jag and Kyp eliminated five skips and turned around to engage and destroy four more. Once it was realized the infidel Trickster Goddess was taking part in the battle with only the guard of two wingmen the number of coral skippers in Jaina's immediate vicinity suddenly doubled. It was alarming despite the fact that she was expecting it. The pressure on Jag and Kyp increased as well; Jag's icy focus was overlaid with tension that practically hummed to Jaina across her tentative link with him. In direct contrast, her link with Kyp fairly burned with determination. 

As focused as she was on her task of staying visible and staying alive, she was still highly attuned to her surroundings. Her hand tightened convulsively around her flight stick as one of the old dreadnaughts disappeared in an expanding debris cloud. Jaina set her jaw against the stabbing anguish of thousands of lives suddenly snuffed out and yanked her stick hard to port as a skip settled on her tail and opened fire. On her screens she saw the blip representing Jag flashing past her and coming around in a long loop. Kyp had fallen in on tail of the skip chasing her, pouring stutterfire into his rear. 

Jaina simply _knew_ what the plan was without conscious thought or consideration. She jinked and juked to avoid the skip's fire, all the while keeping herself between it and Jag, who was now heading straight at her. Kyp continued to fire, varying his shots to make it look like he really did want to shoot the skip down, not just keep it busy. 

Three things happened in succession so rapid they seemed to have occurred in a single, planned moment.

Kyp switched from ineffectual stutterfire to dual-link fire and hammered the skip's stern. Jaina, running head to head with Jag, abruptly snapped up on her portside S-foil and rolled out of the way. Jag opened fire, punching through the nose and stitching the canopy. The skip dropped away suddenly and began to spiral without the guidance of a pilot. 

The sound of a human voice in Jaina's ear startled her out of the deep void of battle concentration. "Squadron leaders, the last of the fleet will enter hyperspace in fifteen seconds; cover their exit and then make yours any way you can. Instructions have been sent to your astromechs." 

"They're _leaving_ us?"An astonished pilot cried. His answer was a harsh shut up from his commanding officer.

Jaina queried Cappie, who confirmed that he had received a transmission from the _Mon Mothma_, then checked her sensor board, more than a little astonished to find only two Twin Suns blips missing. They might get out of this yet.

Twenty seconds later she mentally banging her head against a wall. After the fleet jumped it quickly became clear that escape vectors were limited; in her squad's case, there was only one viable option. And the path was blocked by the dying bulk of a partially gutted cruiser. Their jump coordinates lay directly on the far side of it; going around would put them off course. None of her squad had any missiles left.

"Jaina," Jag said, "Didn't Corran Horn discover that class of ship had a pressurized chamber?"

"Yeah, below midline, to the aft, portside."

"I see what you're getting at," Kyp said quickly. "If we can hit the chamber with enough concentrated fire, she'll blow herself apart, and out of our way." 

Jaina replied, "It's reinforced. We'd have to break through."

One of her pilots broke in tightly, "Enemy squadron coming in fast!"

Jag responded to Jaina on a private channel. "Do you remember the tactic we were talking about this evening before you fell asleep?" 

Jaina did. It was incredibly risky. She didn't think anything like it had been done before, at least not in the New Republic. Jag called it column fire. One fighter flew with dropped shields as he fired while a second lined up precisely with their nose practically in the front ship's exhaust--and fired past the sides of the forward ship. It would only work with ships of a variable profile--such as two X-wings, or a Clawcraft and an X-wing. Jaina would have to be the rear ship because her wingspan would allow her to shoot around him. It would require incredible precision on her part.

"Let's do it," she decided. 

Jag moved in front of her and dropped his shields. Jaina expertly guided her fighter into his wake and steadily moved up until the nose of her ship was practically bumping Jag. But they were rushing toward the hulk at an alarming rate, with coralskippers pressing them from behind. 

Jag remained steady. "Open fire," he commanded coolly.

For Jaina, the few seconds she was divided between flying blind (because the clawcraft blocked her forward view), holding course with Jag, firing her lasers and watching both the hulk and the coralskip squadron on her sensors seemed like an eternity. She felt unbelievably weary when Jag declared, "Yuuzhan Vong cruiser breaking up." He and Jaina instantly reversed their positions with Jag tucked in close behind her so her shields could protect him from the expanding debris field of the destroyed ship. The rest of the squad emerged from it with little trouble and a few seconds later the assortment of X-wings, E-wings, and the one irregular Clawcraft flashed out of existence. 

------------------------------------

As requested! Action for our heroes. 

Next chapter coming soon.

A/N: this chapter was slow in coming for two reasons: A) I haven't felt like writing. The weather has been cold and cloudy and rainy for three weeks straight. I haven't seen the sun since early October, and B) I lost the last week to a bad spell and painkillers. Thank the Lord for those little white pills…and the Jacuzzi tub in my mother's bath. 


End file.
